


All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men…

by hala_macaron



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalyptic riders, Dark, Death, Death of a loved one, F/F, F/M, Horses, Loss, Other, Tagging this as mature because I have no idea how to tag it, Tears, but also kinda fluffy I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hala_macaron/pseuds/hala_macaron
Summary: “ I should have known that you’d be here.” The child to his left was trembling, thin arms hugging it’s tiny frame. He hummed, eyes trained on the battlefield before him. “ And why is that, my dear?”It was a stupid question, but he didn’t want them to lose them self in the silent screams still echoing over the empty field.“ You’re always here.”Day 3: Horses





	All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men…

Black robes swept over the dust covered ground, never making a sound and never turning grey from the ash and soot. The remaining fires were quickly put out with the wave of a thin, pale hand. A white horse- seemingly unbothered by the stench of death surrounding it- nudged its rider with its nose, diverting his attention to a dying man beneath them. 

The man was covered in dirt and ash, blood oozing from a wound that had clearly been caused by receiving a sword to the stomach. His arms were free of any armour, as was most of his body. Not a soldier then, the pale figure on its horse mused, but a drafted commoner. 

A commoner who’d followed his king into battle and now paid the ultimate price for it. 

“ Please…” the farmer whispered, voice as dry as the desert the rider had visited not long ago. Eyes that once might have been a brilliant shade of green were filled with desperate tears, staring up to the hooded figure. “ Please help me.” 

Getting off of his horse the figure knelt in front of the man, grabbing his chin and forcing it up a bit. Had the farmer not already been feverish he might have pulled away from the icy touch. He searched for eyes - hell even a _face __\- _ beneath the hood but found none. 

“ I will, sweet child,” the rider answered, voice calm and soft as if he wanted to sing a lullaby to the dying man in the dirt. “ You have fought bravely. It’s time to rest now.” 

The man shook his head, surprisingly not wrenching himself away from the light touch of bony hands on his chin. “ I can’t,” he croaked, tears starting to fall.   
  
“ Please, sire. I can’t! I can’t rest now. My wife, my child, they’re all alone. I can’t rest now, I need to get back. I promised…” he broke off with a groan, clutching his abdomen with his right hand while reaching for the kneeling figure with his left. “ I promised my daughter I’d bring her a horse when I come back.”

He was sobbing now, head bowed. “ I promised her that I would bring her a horse as payment. I don’t care for gold. The king told me he would give me the foal of his finest steed when the war is won, so that my daughter may be filled with pride every time she rides. Please...please I promised her!” 

Death hummed. A dying man with a promise to fulfil. How interesting. He was sure that there had been quite a lot of those on this battlefield. But none of them were alive to utter words. He would start with this one, and collect the others afterwards.   
  
“ I am no lord, child. I am no king. I cannot save you, and I cannot bestow gifts upon you. I am not my beloved, so I cannot give life to you. But I will hear you out. Do you wish to keep your promise?”   
  
The farmer nodded, coughing up blood not a minute later. Death tutted quietly, before pulling his hood down. Dull green eyes met a black void, specks of millions of tiny glinting lights in it. _Stars, _he thought, getting lightheaded. _The sky rests in his eyes. _

_“ _Come now,” the pale rider said, gently hugging the man and pulling him closer. His horns gave off a dim, unearthly glow, and the same stars that shone in his eyes painted swirls on his dark wings. “ They await you. You have done all you could. You can rest now, my dearest child. Fret not, all is taken care of.” 

The farmer closed his eyes, sagging forward in the embrace. He whispered a last “ thank you”, before his last breath left him. Death smiled ruefully, gently laying the body down. 

His smile vanished as soon as he felt a presence near him. A child had appeared, thin and quite sickly looking, eyes too big and wide for a youngling. Too full of anger and too scarred by sadness. 

  
“ I should have known that you’d be here.” The child to his left was trembling, thin arms hugging its tiny frame. He hummed, eyes trained on the empty battlefield before him.

“ And why is that, my dear?”  
  
It was a stupid question, but he didn’t want them to lose them self in the silent screams still echoing over the empty field. He had seen their black tears too often. 

“ You’re always here,” they whispered, cruel smile stretching over their face, but not meeting their eyes. Never meeting their eyes. Death wondered if the child had ever known a true smile. 

“ As are you.” 

They nodded, red wings spread out behind them. “ I am wherever they decide they need me. I am War. I am what they leave behind, whatever wounds they inflict. I am their false promises and crumbling beliefs in a right cause. I am mourning family members, the scream of a partner, the desperate shriek of a mother that begs her child to return to life.” 

_A child, _he wanted to scream, _you’re a child that shows the true consequences of war. You’re the loss they face, the lives lost and the world’s that are destroyed by it. They made you and will never bother to unmake you. They are too greedy, they lust for blood too much. The day you will die will be the day they cease to fight. _

_“ _I should go. You still have lots of work to do, and they will need me elsewhere soon.” They said, vanishing without another word. 

Death shook his head, once again taking the reigns of his horse. War was right, he still had work to do. There had been about 5000 men fighting for King Alister. King Frederic had gone to war with barely 2000. All of them and the king himself were dead now. He still had work to do, indeed. 

A few days later Amelia Dower opened the doors of her house to find her daughter playing with a young foal, its coat shimmering golden like the sun. Her husband and the king were dead, so where had the horse come from? None of their neighbours had any to spare. 

Death entwined his fingers with those of his beloved, kissing Life’s hands with as much devotion as one could put into a single kiss. She smiled, dark skin glowing in ways he couldn’t comprehend to this day, and likely never would. He would have to be off soon to collect two souls who’d died in each other’s arms. He wished he could leave the two girls waiting a bit longer, but it wouldn’t do to let souls stall that long. 

“ I will see you soon, my love.” 

“ See to our children, dearest. We won’t be apart long.” 

She was the goddess many sought, the softest light and brightest star all at once. She was the sun to his moon, every flower and every being he encountered while going about collecting and guiding, unseen by most of the living. She was his heart, and he worshipped her. The pale rider had barely mounted his horse before he turned around, darkness meeting golden eyes for another moment. 

He would greet every single one of their children for however long they remained on this earth. When everything went extinct, perhaps they might move on to another world. For now however, he would greet child after child. What was that phrase he had heard a singer say sometime?   
  
Ah yes. He would greet all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men. How interesting. 


End file.
